The Results of Highgrade
by T'Reilani
Summary: Ratchet slaps Fireflight with a fish for going out with Bluestreak. Yes, really. Crack.


**This came from one of the questions on a character quiz I took. **

_**4 slaps 9 with a fish for going out with 7.**_

**That adds up to **_**Ratchet slaps Fireflight with a fish for dating Bluestreak. **_

**Uh...yeah.**

**So this is a gift fic for my little brother, who thought that concept was hilarious. Happy birthday, kid.**

Ratchet always knew Fireflight, Bluestreak, and high-grade would be a bad combination. But even he hadn't thought it would be this bad.

"He _WHAT?_" The medic stared in disbelief at the rather hung-over Air Raid, who shifted nervously. "Are you telling me that your brother _asked Bluestreak out?_ And he _accepted?_"

"Uh...kinda, yeah..." Air Raid rubbed tiredly at his nasal ridge. "And now...we can't find either of them."

"Oh, great_._" Ratchet groaned. "I can't _wait _to find out what happened. Just please tell me they weren't so overenergized they couldn't tell the difference between a mech and a femme."

Air Raid shrugged dully. "I dunno, maybe...WHAT?" His optics widened, further than the medic had thought they could, as his sluggish CPU processed what Ratchet had said. "Ooooh...I think I'm going to throw up." He pressed a hand to his mouth, groaning.

"Make sure you do it over the trash can. I'm going to go find those two, and when I do..." The look on Ratchet's face would have sent Ironhide running, but Air Raid barely noticed, stumbling toward the trash can in the corner.

The medic stalked out of the sickbay, muttering quietly in frustration. "I _told_ Prime allowing Sideswipe's high-grade at Jazz's party was a bad idea. But does he listen to me? No. And now, who's stuck chasing down hung-over mechs who were so overenergized they didn't know what they were asking each other last night? Prime? Jazz? No, they're both in their quarters with massive processor aches. _I'm_ the one who has to pick up the mess."

He didn't bother knocking on the door to Bluestreak's quarters; he just used his medical override. Of course, it wasn't that simple. The room was empty, and obviously hadn't been used last night.

"Fraggit," Ratchet swore irritatedly. "Where _else_ would they be?"

He stared down the Ark's main corridor, slamming one hand against his forehead in frustration. "Glitch-heads. RAM-damaged glitch-heads. Who the slag let them have high-grade anyway?"

With another irritated sigh, he started down the corridor, trying to think where he would go if he was an overenergized mech on a date. That was the problem, of course, they wouldn't have been thinking. They would have just wandered. Maybe the security cameras would have an answer.

Prowl, one of the few fully functional mechs on the Ark at the moment, arched an optic ridge. "Yes, they left the Ark at about 11:46:07 last night, according to the cameras. If they remained on a more or less straight course, they would have ended up near the river. Of course, I calculate odds are approximately 68.2 to 1 that they would manage a straight line..."

"Yeah, thanks, Prowl." Ratchet left before Prowl's obssessive details could give him a processor ache. "Straight line to the river, huh?"

Outside was still quiet, even though it was late morning. Ratchet was no tracker, but even he could see the rather uneven footprints in the soft dirt. Following them - they were actually fairly close to a straight line - led him to a large clump of trees right on the riverbank. Looking in, Ratchet thought just how lucky the two were they hadn't fallen in.

Both were asleep, curled up in a small heap on the grass. Bluestreak was draped over Fireflight's chest, head resting on his shoulder. To the medic's immense relief, it was clear the two of them had just managed to stagger there before either falling asleep or passing out from the high-grade.

Not particularly gently, he kicked at Bluestreak's leg, pushing on Fireflight's shoulder. "C'mon, wake up, you two glitches. There is no way I'm carrying you back to the Ark."

"Unh." Fireflight tried to roll away. Bluestreak shifted with him, murmuring, "Too early."

Ratchet's patience, limited as it was, snapped. One quick, hard push sent both of the younger 'bots into the river. Thirty seconds of yelping, splashing, and swearing later, Fireflight and Bluestreak were standing waist-deep in the water, blinking and staring at Ratchet.

Bluestreak, unsurprisingly, was the first to find his voice. "How'd we get out here? Ow, my processor..."

"You're lucky all you have is a processor ache!" the medic snapped, glaring at both of them. "You have _no idea_ what happened last night, do you?"

"Uh...no." Fireflight looked from Ratchet to Bluestreak and back again. "Why?"

"Why? WHY?" Ratchet practically yelled. "You two came out here on a _date_, you morons!"

"A what?" Bluestreak stared at Fireflight in shock. "How the slag did that happen?"

"You both," Ratchet growled, "had far too much high-grade, and Fireflight asked you out. Apparently you accepted."

"I did?" Fireflight looked between them again. "Well...I don't remember...but even if I did...it's not a bad thing, right? Because I had high-grade?"

Ratchet was about to hurl a wrench at him, but his medical protocol reminded him that if he knocked Fireflight out in this state, it would be very bad. Quickly, the medic looked around for something else to throw. "You think that, huh?" His optics landed on the perfect solution, which must have landed on the bank when the two younger 'bots stood up.

"Well, yeah." Fireflight managed to smile, despite the splitting processor ache he must have had. "I mean, you know, overenergizing does that to a mech, and it's normal, right?"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a very large, very alive trout hit Fireflight directly between the optics. Both younger mechs stared, mouths open, as Ratchet spun around and stomped away, yelling back over his shoulder. "You two can walk back, you're not incapacitated. But try anything like this again, and you will be!"

**For the record, this isn't meant to say anything negative about same-sex pairings, it just struck me as a funny combination. **


End file.
